Wicked Wyoming Nights (9 page)

“But it’s so much nicer to have them listen quietly. You said from the first that’s how you wanted it to be. And now Mr. Stedman has seen to it they won’t bother me again.”

“Damn the man! This is my saloon,” Ira burst out. “I decide whether or not the men dance with you, and I think it’s a great idea. We can start a lottery. Well draw numbers with a different man getting one dance every night.”

“No!” shouted Eliza.

“Can’t you see what a money-maker this will be? You’re a lady who can sing like a canary instead of screech like a bobcat. I might even charge for the dances. No, I’ll make it an extra. I’ll raise the price of whiskey instead.”

“I won’t be auctioned off,” Eliza declared rebelliously.

“I’ve got to talk to Croley about redoing this whole place,” Ira continued as if Eliza hadn’t spoken. “If we’re going to charge higher prices, we’ve got to have a fancier decor. I wonder if it’d be a good idea to get some more girls—maybe give free chances on them too? No, I don’t think so, not with you as a centerpiece. But I’ll have to talk to Croley.”

“I won’t do it,” Eliza announced so vehemently her words finally pierced Ira’s armor of self-absorption. “I’ll quit.”

“What?” thundered her incredulous uncle.

“I said I’d quit. Then I could become a teacher.” Eliza’s newfound courage wavered, but it held.

“Who put such a crazy idea in your head?”

“I’ve always wanted a school,” Eliza replied eagerly, emboldened by her first taste of defiance. “And Mrs. Baylis says they haven’t had a teacher for almost a year now.

“I told you to stay away from that woman.”

“I sometimes go there while I wait for the second performance.”

“Then stop it right now. And put this idea of a school out of your head.”

“No.”

“What did you say?” Ira sputtered, thunderstruck.

“I said I won’t stop going to see Mrs. Baylis, and I won’t give up the idea of a school. Please, I can keep fixing your dinner and singing.”

“You won’t do anything of the kind.”

“Then I won’t sing anymore.” Eliza was as surprised as her uncle to hear the words come out of her mouth, but having said them she clung to them tenaciously.

“Of course you’ll sing,” he growled, too shocked at Eliza’s ultimatum to rage at her. “Now let’s have no more talk about this. You’ve had too much excitement and it’s gone to your head. You’ll feel more like yourself tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to change my mind tomorrow or the next day.”

“And just what do you propose to do?”

“Mrs. Baylis has asked me to come live with her. She says I work too hard. She also says I shouldn’t be singing in a saloon and wearing dresses no God-fearing female would be caught dead in.”

“You tell Ella Baylis to mind her own business. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll lay a broom handle across your backside.”

“I’ll tell Mr. Stedman.” The words, out before she knew it, caused her uncle to regard her with an ugly expression.

“You would dare to trust a cowboy before your own uncle?”

“He said he wouldn’t let anyone touch me.”

Ira was nonplussed. He’d never encountered opposition from Eliza. That she would claim the protection of a stranger was the crowning blow.

“I swear I’ll sing every night,” Eliza promised. “And school is only for the summer. Please, Uncle, it’s the only thing I’ve ever asked you to do for me.”

“And if I don’t?” he challenged.

“I won’t sing.” The tiny thread of determination was garnering strength, and Eliza spoke her words with stiffening resolve.

“Only if it doesn’t affect your singing,” Ira said, sufficiently staggered by the thought of losing the money Eliza brought in to own himself beaten.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Eliza said, giving him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “I promise you won’t regret it. She gathered up her cape and hurried from the room, leaving Ira to wonder what had brought about this change in his niece.

“Miss Smallwood?”

Eliza nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun about to find herself looking up into Cord Stedman’s smiling face, and she was suddenly so addle-brained she could only stare at him in confusion. Each detail of his appearance was burned into her brain, yet every time she saw him, his physical magnetism stunned and bewildered her as completely as it had that first day by the creek. She didn’t know why she should be so breathless—she had only covered half the distance from the saloon to the Baylises’ store—but she felt like she needed to sit down.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” she muttered absently. The warmth in his eyes caused her heart to flutter so badly she was in danger of losing her train of thought. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there”

“Nothing much, but they won’t bother you again.”

“No,” she said lowering her eyes. “Not after what you did.”

“They’re just boys,” Cord told her, as though it explained everything. “They don’t know how to treat a lady.”

“Maybe they don’t think a woman who sings in a saloon is a lady. I know Lavinia’s not.”

“You shouldn’t know anything about women like that,” Cord said, a dark expression settling over his face.

“I don’t really, but I can’t help but guess some things.”

“What are you doing going to her place?” Cord demanded with a spurt of anger.

“Lucy helps me dress. I don’t know anybody else except Mrs. Baylis.”

“There has to be some way to keep you out of that place. Lucy may be a good soul, but the less said about Lavinia the better.”

Cord lapsed into thought and Eliza gazed up at him in beatific bewilderment. It was so difficult to believe anyone would take an interest in her, she’d nearly talked herself into believing she’d imagined the other night, but here he was worrying about her again. No girl could have ever been as happy as she was just now.

“You have a mighty pretty voice, but you shouldn’t be singing in a saloon either.” Eliza flushed with pleasure.

“I have to. At last Uncle Ira has a chance to make a go of something, and I can’t let him fail because of me.”

“He’ll make money without you.”

“But not as much, and he has set his heart on having the biggest saloon in Buffalo. This is the first time he’s asked me to do anything except keep house. I owe him something for taking care of me all these years.”

“You’re mighty loyal.”

“I promised Aunt Sarah I’d take care of him. Besides, I don’t have any other family.”

“Don’t you have any men friends?” She was too busy blushing to notice the increased gravity in his expression.

“Men don’t like plain girls, and it’s hard to look pretty in a faded dress with dirt on your nose and perspiration on your forehead.”

“You look pretty to me,” Cord said softly. “I thought so before I ever saw you in that red dress.”

“I don’t like to wear it,” she confessed, “but Uncle and Lavinia said I must.”

“It suits the occasion, but you’re made for sunlight and open air.” Eliza thought she would burst with pleasure.

“Maybe, but I’ll probably go on singing until there’s no one in all of Wyoming who ever wants to hear me again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, but Uncle hasn’t been able to settle down to anything since Aunt Sarah and Grant died. Maybe if the saloon is a success, he’ll be happier.”

“Isn’t there something you want for yourself, not to please your uncle or make money?” Eliza didn’t answer immediately, but Cord could tell from the guarded look in her eyes he’d touched a soft spot. “There is, isn’t mere? Won’t you tell me?”

“You’ll laugh,” she said reluctantly. “Uncle says I’m a great fool to even think of it.”

“You know I never agree with your uncle.”

Eliza was betrayed into a smile. “Okay, but only if you promise not to laugh.”

“I promise.”

“I want to be a teacher.” She paused, expecting some sign of disapproval, but when he just stood there waiting, she had the courage to continue.

“I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. Mama was a teacher before she married Papa, and so was Aunt Sarah. She taught Grant and me.”

“Have you taught before?”

“No,” she confessed, “and I imagine it will be quite a shock at first, but I’m sure the children will learn to mind and I’ll soon know what to do.” Cord doubted children could be made to mind so readily, but he didn’t say so.

“Buffalo doesn’t have a teacher, and they don’t have a schoolhouse eider,” she told him. “The children want to learn. They just need someone to teach them.”

“Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“No, but I’m determined to …” Eliza suddenly ducked into an open door leaving Cord alone in the street. “It’s Uncle,” she whispered urgently from the doorway. “He’s coming this way.”

“But surely—”

“He must not see us together. Please keep walking.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“Please!”
she begged, and Cord reluctantly resumed walking toward the little man Eliza was so anxious to avoid. But he swore to himself one day Eliza would walk at his side without fear.

Chapter 7

Ella Baylis was not entirely pleased to find Cord Stedman on her front porch. He had acted pretty highhanded on more than one occasion, and some people were reluctant to stop and chat with him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly. “If you want Ed, he’s still at the store.”

Cord grinned and Ella understood why women rarely spoke unfavorably of him. “I’d like to come in if you’d let me.”

“Come on. I’m not afraid of you.”

“I didn’t expect you would be, but you’d have no cause to be afraid of me anyway.”

“Sit down. I’ll get a crick in my neck if I keep looking up at you. What’s on your mind?”

“Building a schoolhouse.”

Ella was not usually caught off balance, but that was such an unexpected response she half turned around before settling into her own chair. “You got a passel of misbegotten brats you want taught to read?”

Cord’s eyebrows moved close together and the eyes began to retreat behind their barrier.

“Now don’t start glaring at me like a hawk at a prairie chicken. That was meant to be a joke, but I’ll apologize for it nonetheless.”

Cord’s smile reappeared. “Miss Smallwood, the young lady who sings at the Sweetwater—”

“I know who she is,” Ella said, interrupting.

“—wants to teach, but she says Buffalo doesn’t have a schoolhouse.”

“Since when did you get interested in educating children?”

“I’m not.”

“In the teacher maybe?”

“Well, it’s got to be that, doesn’t it?”

“You believe in straight talking, don’t you?”

“It saves trouble.”

“I say you’re
asking
for trouble. Her uncle has been talking, and it seems you figure large in his conversation, but not high in his opinion.”

“I’m not one to go looking for trouble, but I don’t run from it eider.”

“I didn’t imagine you would, or go around it when you want something eider,” Ella replied thoughtfully, “but that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. I don’t run this town and I can’t build a schoolhouse.”

“You know who can. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get some men to put up the building if you get the county to provide the money.”

“As well as permission to do it in the town’s name?”

“That too, but I don’t plan to wait on the town. My boys can put up a school on my land easier than asking people here to help, but that won’t answer as well as one built with town backing.”

“What about opposition?”

“I hadn’t figured on anything more than a little foot-dragging. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“About lifting those feet and making them move faster?”

“Yes, ma’am. You might say that.”

Ella enjoyed a rumbling laugh. “I like you,” she stated unexpectedly. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t, what with those broad shoulders and smoldering eyes the girls talk so silly about, but you get right to the heart of things without any shilly-shallying and oiling up to people.”

Cord shifted uneasily under the burden of praise. “People generally know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t stop them. Which brings me to ask how you propose to enlist everyone’s help.”

“I was hoping you could do that for me, ma’am. Being on the outside here, I’m not the one to go asking for favors, especially if it means having to come up with money.”

“True, though it shouldn’t be hard. The women are desperate to find a teacher. If they knew there was one already here, they’d have their husbands here before sundown.”

“And the town council? I don’t like to push everything off on you, but—”

“Gentlemanly of you, but I’ll get Ed to do that. All stick with the wives. Despite all their talking and posturing, there’s not a man who won’t move the faster for a little prodding.”